Wake up with the sunrise
by irnan
Summary: Healing takes time. John and Mary know from experience. Part four of the Ares and Artemis 'verse.
1. to a castle i will take you

_Nobody should be allowed to have exclusive rights to those boys and their family. Especially not me. They're far too much fun to play with._

_AN: A few lossely connected oneshots about John and Mary in the months after "What's to be they say will be". _

_All titles from – hehe – Zeppelin's "What Is And What Should Never Be"._

**

* * *

To a castle I will take you**

They hid in Dan's cabin for nearly four months. Manning was tucked away in the Colorado forests, small and quiet, the cabin itself isolated. Dan put John and Mary to work almost as soon as they arrived, everything from chopping firewood out the back to sparring to target-practice to research and studying.

John knew what he was doing. Distracting them, wearing them out, exhausting them to the point where neither of them could think about Cold Oak, or Minneapolis, or Azazel.

None of them ever spoke that name aloud again, and Mary and John were careful never to use their abilities.

Mary cried herself to sleep in John's arms every night for the first week, and often afterwards. Abe had been as much an uncle to her as Ben Roberts. She flung herself into 'work' wholeheartedly, and stayed close to John.

Actually, it was more accurate to say they stayed close to each other. Never far apart, and often touching.

John wrote postcards. To Katie, to Allison, to Deacon, and to the General. One each, at the end of every month. Never anything more than simple messages like _I'm OK__, hope you guys are doing alright_ or _could be I'll see you soon_.

"Dad started it," he explained to Mary one weekend at the post office. "When he was away, when we were kids, we'd get a postcard each, every week actually, so we'd know he was still OK."

She smiled. "Nice."

The mountains surrounding them offered their own kind of comfort, their eternal changelessness a balm for the soul, like the myriad of stars they could see at night. Hiking through the woods quickly became their favourite way to spend a Sunday, lost in the silence and beauty and calm around them.

They didn't talk much. All the need for that seemed to have disappeared. It felt sometimes as if talking required an effort that would only make it worse, make them think, make them remember. Better to live in this comfortable, companionable silence, where their conversations were held in looks and gestures, in brief affectionate kisses and slow tender lovemaking.

September was drawing to a close, and the Colorado nights were getting colder.

"Didn't you go to college?" Mary asked one night in bed. John had spent most of the evening with Latin declensions, and he was picking it up pretty damn quickly.

He shook his head, pulled the blankets up around their shoulders. "No. Took myself off to Vietnam instead. After I got back, the idea of spending four years shut up in a dorm room with a typewriter and a pile of musty books didn't really appeal to me anymore. So I ended up learning motors."

"What about the military?"

"On leave. Plus I was injured, so that gave me time. In the end, I decided I really didn't want to spend the rest of my life getting shot at, so I resigned, and headed off on a road trip with Deacon to get up the courage to tell Dad. Not that he's gonna disinherit me, or anything. He'll just be surprised, and disappointed. I hate that."

"I know what you mean," Mary said softly. "I was a mess in high school. And every time something… happened, Uncle Ben would give me this look, like, _what your parents would say if they could see you now_. Thing is, that just made it worse."

_"_Didn't _you_ go to college?"

"Academic achievement isn't one of my virtues. Mark owns a farm up in Connecticut. I stayed for three years, and he took me hunting every now and then. When my 'gift' showed up, I left, started looking for answers. Ben was in Canada. He disappears for a few months every now and then – always has done. Used to drive my Dad nuts when he didn't check in. Dad was older, see."

John laughed. "Oh, I know all about younger siblings," he agreed.

Dan left them alone quite a bit, taking off for a fortnight at a time to hunt. He seemed to sense they couldn't deal with anything – or anyone – but each other just yet, and they were both quietly grateful to him.

But their peace was shattered early one frosty morning when a large black car with tinted windows drew up and an older guy in a suit climbed out. He was broad-shouldered, grey-haired and dark eyed, and reminded Mary of someone. It wasn't his looks as much as it was his attitude, the way he walked, the quiet but unshakeable self-confidence he held himself with.

"John," she called as she heard him come down the stairs.

"Yeah?" He sauntered into the kitchen with tousled hair and shirt hanging open (which really wasn't fair on her, she thought) and still-sleepy eyes.

"Your Dad's here."

_That_ woke him up.

"What!"

Mary left the kitchen window open so she could eavesdrop.

"The hell are you doing here?" John demanded as soon as he got out the front door.

"The hell am I doing here!" the General shouted. "What about you? You disappear in the middle of a two-week road trip without telling even _Deacon_ what's going on, let alone your own _family_, then I have to find out from _Jeff_ you've resigned your commission, and three weeks later I start getting postcards!"

"If I'd known you'd be so interfering as to track me down, I wouldn't have bothered," John growled.

"This isn't funny, John," his father snarled right back. "What do you think you're doing? Messing about _trying_ to annoy me?" Then his voice softened, took on a worried note. "Or are you in trouble, or something?"

John sighed. "Or something," he admitted. The General's eyes narrowed, caught between concern and anger still.

"The one thing I always believed of our relationship was that you had enough trust in me – enough sense – to come to me if you were in trouble," he said quietly. "I know I've been away too much to ever win a Parent of the Year award, but I did think that."

John heaved a sigh, ran a hand over his mouth. That meant anything from awkwardness to embarrassment to unhappiness. Maybe she should go rescue him.

"Dad – I do trust you. But this… you can't fix this. I'm not talking about a speeding ticket, or a bar fight, or anything like that. This is different."

"Different how?" his father wanted to know. "As far as I can see all this is is you hiding up here in the Colorado woods letting your life slip away from you with every day." He did a 180-turn, taking in the house, the forest, the Impala sitting not far away under a tarp, and then did a double-take.

Damn it. He'd spotted Mary through the kitchen window.

She didn't bother to hide, just sauntered out the front door in jeans and boots and unwashed, untidy hair and John's t-shirt from yesterday.

"General Winchester? Pleased to meet you, sir. I'm Mary Roberts."

John's expression didn't change, but those beautiful brown eyes glowed.

The General shook hands with her with a polite smile, but she saw the way his eyes flickered downwards, to her abdomen.

"I'm not pregnant, if that's what you're worried about," she said calmly.

John suppressed a whoop of laughter at the way his father practically jerked back from her in surprise. Harry Winchester wasn't really used to women like Mary – blunt, outspoken, and completely sure of themselves. John's mother was a devious, soulless bitch, and Allison was good and kind and loving – a lady. And while Katie had some attitude, chiefly from being the spoiled baby of the family, she was no match for Mary.

Then the General smiled slowly. "Young lady," he said, "I'm rather offended you think I'd be worried about it."

Mary started to like him at that point. "Would you like to come in and have breakfast?"

"The house is yours?" he asked. She shook her head. "No. Friend of ours, we're just house-sitting."

"I see. Tell me, are you in the same… trouble… as my son here?"

"Yes." She didn't elaborate. That wasn't her place; this was John's father.

"Dad," he said now, more softly this time. "Dad, this is one thing you're going to have to trust me on. Please. Just go home, tell Katie and Allison I'm OK, and let me do this. Trust me, Dad."

The General stood looking at him for a long time, studying the man his broken, hurting son had become in the space of a few short months. He suspected it was Mary's doing. He hadn't missed the looks they'd exchanged, the bond between them. John crossed over to them, standing close to her; when she twined her fingers through his, it seemed an almost unconscious gesture.

He looked up again, met John's eyes.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he grumbled. John smiled.

"Thanks, Dad."

"Just don't disappear again," his father ordered. "I expect postcards, one a month, and the occasional phone call to your sister and stepmother if you think you can stand that. You know how to reach me if you ever need anything."

"Yessir," John said, grateful.

"Miss Roberts."

"Mary, please."

"Mary, then. Keep an eye on him for me?"

"My pleasure, General."

John pulled Mary into his arms as the car drew away. She snuggled close, goosebumps rising on her bare arms.

Dan arrived back a few days later, while they were in the middle of a sparring match. John had been rusty when they'd started training, and Mary not very experienced. A few months of constant practice later, and watching them spar was like watching an intricate, perfectly choreographed dance to which only they knew the steps.

Dan paused to watch them, wondering what they'd look like on a proper dance floor. Mary in a dress, and John a tux… the thought made him smile sadly. These kids had saved his life, and yet it was entirely possible that they themselves had no future whatsoever.

"Having fun?" he called out. John looked round, surprised, and Mary took swift advantage of his distraction. He tumbled to the ground with a yelp, and she burst out laughing – cut off when he kicked out, catching her in the knees and dropping her to the ground next to him.

Dan laughed along with them, the sound filling his usually empty back yard.

"You two been OK?"

"Fine, Dan," Mary said, sitting up, still smiling. "How about you?" John propped himself up on his elbows to hear the answer.

"Well," Dan said slowly, "A friend got in touch with me last night. Seems there have been a few disappearances a couple counties over, one body found so far. Pattern looks like a spirit. I thought maybe you two would like to check it out?"

He literally held his breath waiting for an answer. They needed to be OK, these two. He needed them to be OK.

Sometimes he was afraid the whole world did.

Mary and John were exchanging a long look. There was a spark of excitement dancing in John's dark eyes; when Mary saw it, she grinned for the first time in four months.

"Sure, why not?" she said.

"What's the name of the place?" John added.


	2. what's to stop us

**What's to stop ****us**

Ben Roberts could hardly believe it had taken him six months to track his niece down. Wasn't it just yesterday she'd been a quiet, cheerful golden-haired little girl who loved stories and hung on her cousin's every word?

His son Mark had laughed at that. "Get over it, Dad," he'd said. "And get over it quick. You were gone a good while before Mary took off, and she's changed. Gotten stronger, for one thing."

Mark had been right, it turned out. The little girl had mostly died with her parents, but Ben didn't even see the lost, hurting teenager in the young woman before him. Mary carried herself with a new self-confidence, hair loose around her shoulders for a change. She'd picked up a suntan, and she moved differently too, quicker, more coordinated, more… graceful. Mouth quirked in a hesitant smile, but her hazel-green eyes were bright as ever.

Ned's eyes. Mark had been right; he shouldn't have left for Canada when he did.

"Uncle Ben." Nothing hesitant about the hug she gave him. He could feel firm muscle under her skin when he gripped her arms, held her back to study her closely. She'd always been cheeky, but this Mary had attitude. Pain in her eyes, horror mostly buried, deep under a layer of pure… contentment.

Then Ben looked up, and saw the cause of that last. John Winchester. Bit over six feet tall, broad but quick-looking, black hair and deep, dark brown eyes. Biker boots, scruffy jeans, a sweater under the heavy black leather jacket. Intense-looking, like he was the sort of guy to throw himself wholeheartedly into whatever he took on.

It took a moment before Ben realised the boy was studying him right back.

"John, this is my uncle Ben," Mary said. "Ben, John Winchester." She bit the left corner of her bottom lip as they shook hands.

"John," Ben greeted him. "Dan Elkins has been singing your praises."

John grinned. "Dan's been singing full stop, or you wouldn't be here, as I understand it," he said in a deep Midwestern drawl, and then smiled more fully when Mary scowled at him. Ben sensed the remark had been more for her than him. Had they fought about coming to see him? He felt a bit offended.

Mary could see it. She always had read him with the same ease Ned had. "I didn't think you'd approve, and I don't want to fight about it," she said.

"Instead of which you let me find out from Bill Harvelle that Abe's been killed, and you've disappeared, and not even Mark has seen you for months," Ben said sharply.

Beside him, John tensed.

Mary just sighed. "You can't do anything about this," she said.

"Try me. You're my niece."

"I've been marked by a demon thousands of years old that wants me to destroy humankind," Mary snapped. "And you think you can _fix this_?"

Ben drew a deep, calming breath. "John, will you give us a minute?"

"Sure," John said slowly, eyes on Mary, not Ben. "I'll… be in the parking lot."

Was that sarcasm? Arrogant pup.

The diner door closed behind him with the same tinkle diner doors across the world open and close with.

Mary sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"He's been… marked, as well?" Ben asked.

"How do you think we met?" Mary said drily.

"Are you lovers?"

"What gave it away?"

"The whole time, he never took his eyes off you. And you were checking him out as he left."

She smirked at him. "Oh, yeah."

"You know about his family, yes?"

"His Dad's a General in the Marines, if that's what you mean. And I can't believe you snooped around in his past before you came here. Or actually, I can. I just don't want to."

"His mother owns half the state of California."

"They don't talk. John calls her the Antichrist."

"The boy had acceptance letters into half a dozen Ivy League colleges before he left for Vietnam," Ben pressed on.

Mary carried on glaring. He sighed. "Mary. I don't want you hurt, my girl. Physically or romantically. If you carry on like this – with this – the former will happen. No doubt about it."

"And the latter?" She really had changed. The Mary he remembered would have been yelling by now. This one was calm, controlled despite the fury seething in her look.

"How long do you really think he's going to live this life before he figures out what he's left behind – what he's thrown away?" It was cruel, he knew, but he had to do it. Had to make her see, to come back to Connecticut where he could protect her and leave the hunting to him and Mark.

When he saw her flinch, though, he wondered if he'd gone too far. Ned and Lisa's deaths had torn gaping holes in their beautiful daughter; in her heart, her ability to trust, her willingness to love and be loved. It taken him, Mark and Colleen nearly six years to help her repair them even a little. Had he just undone all that?

"John will stay as long as he has to," Mary said quietly. "He can't escape this any more than I can. And Az – the Demon said it would never just leave us alone. I can't come back to Connecticut, Uncle Ben. I just can't. It killed Abe because I went to him for answers, and to spite us. I can't watch that happen to you, or Mark, or Colleen, and certainly not the kids. And John won't watch it do that to his family."

She stood up, coffee untouched, still perfectly calm and quiet. "Leave a message at Dan's if you need to get in touch with me."

Ben didn't stop her. He wasn't sure he could. Stunned and horrified, the enormity of what Mary had said slowly dawning on him, he watched as she crossed the parking lot, joined John. He didn't even glance at Ben, all his attention on Mary. She smiled up at him, said something. When he still looked concerned, she reached up, pressed her lips to his. Not a passionate kiss, but a loving one, reassuring. Ben was about stunned when she let him drive the Impala. He had the sinking feeling he'd just made a pretty stupid mistake.


	3. only goes to show

_For my sister.__ Early birthday present. _

**

* * *

Only g****oes to show**

Mike Harris was having a bad day. First the car had broken down, whereupon he'd been late for work, then his brother had called to tell him their Dad had broken an ankle falling off a stepladder, and now that Deacon and the guys had finally dragged him out for a beer or two, the blonde at the bar was steadfastly refusing to flirt with him.

"I'm with someone, sorry," she said, not looking it in the least.

Mike was too drunk to care. "Here with someone, or just generally with someone?"

"Both," she said. Name was… Mary! That was it. It suggested a nice, sweet girl, but the look she was giving him was none of those things. "Listen, I think you've had enough of those."

He raised his brand-new shot of whiskey up to eye-level, peered thoughtfully into the golden-brown depths.

"Nope," he said. "Let me buy you one."

She choked back laughter. "Mikey, I could almost admire your persistence."

"So you will have a drink with me?"

"No, she won't," a new voice said from behind him. Mary's someone. Tall, dark-haired, folding a sheaf of notes into his leather jacket. "And I don't – holy crap. Harris?"

Mike blinked owlishly. "Bugger me. That you, Win?"

It was. John Winchester, decidedly solid, unshakeable as ever and definitely not MIA.

Anymore.

"Rumours about you, m'boy," Mike told him. "All sorts'a rumours. Lots of 'em. Deacon's been keeping mum. He's right over _there_ someplace…"

"Oh, no," John muttered.

"Army buddies of yours?" Mary surmised.

"You've met!" Mike exclaimed happily.

"You've just spent the last twenty minutes hitting on my girl," John told him, amused.

Mike winced. "Did I? Oops." That sort of thing went very much against the code of brotherhood the five of them were supposed to live by. "Sorry, John."

_"Sorry, John!" _Mary exclaimed incredulously. "Men! He's not the one who's had to sit here fending off your cheesy pick-up lines, you little idiot."

"How many times do I have to remind you you're a possession, not a person?" John asked her.

In his intoxicated state, Mike completely missed the teasing in his friend's voice.

"Damn straight!" he announced, waving the empty shot glass around expansively.

In his intoxicated state, Mary's slap knocked Mike off the bar stool.

"He's probably cracked his skull on the floor," Jake said as they all gathered round Mike's half-conscious form in the parking lot.

"The guilt's overwhelming," Mary said drily.

"Should be," John told her. "Bit remorse would look good in court if you end up paying damages."

"With your money," Mary said calmly. "What took you so long, anyway?"

"Dennis Hopper wanted a rematch," John said, referring to the biker he'd just hustled out of this month's paycheck at pool. "Luckily for Mike's damages claim."

"He'll be too embarrassed to stand up in court and admit a blonde in a bar did this to him," Mary shrugged.

"_I_ can't believe it, let alone a court," Frank muttered, eyeing her.

"We'll see. Mike gets a little crazy sometimes," John said.

"I've just spent all evening noticing," Mary retorted.

Deacon, Jake, and Frank were exchanging rather puzzled looks. Who the hell was this girl?

Finally, Frank dragged his eyes away from Mary's curves and cleared his throat pointedly. "Introductions, Win?" he said.

"Hmm? Oh, right. Mary, that's Frank, Jake and Deacon… guys, Mary Roberts."

"Your…" Jake prodded. Mary's eyes flashed. "_His_ nothing," she said with sharp emphasis on the pronoun.

John grimaced slightly. Spending an evening in a bar getting hit on by seedy guys tended to make her irritable.

Tell the truth, it did the same to him.

"Ah," Frank deadpanned. "So, uh… what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Nice and blunt, straight in for the kill," Jake tossed in sarcastically. John tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans in a gesture Mary knew meant he was being stubborn about something, and just _looked_ at them.

"Oh, come on," Jake said. "You resign your commission, take off without a word in the middle of a road trip, spend the next… what, six, seven months?... completely AWOL only to turn up again in a biker bar whole states away from where we last heard from you in the company of a pretty blonde. What are we supposed to think?"

"First your Dad, now this lot," Mary said. "Why do they all assume you've got me pregnant?"

"It's the only accepted reason for disappearing like that," John shrugged. "Bill and Max both did it."

"Assholes."

"Yeah, they were, kinda. Plus you weren't drinking."

"But it is getting to the point where I could really use a cigarette."

"You smoke?" Frank cut in, staring. In his experience, nice girls did not smoke.

"Quit right after high school actually, while I was at my cousin's," Mary said calmly.

When did she start?

John was getting less amused and more irritated by the second. They'd had a perfect, peaceful day doing nothing for a change, just taking the time to enjoy being together, and now his friends had to show up and ruin it. Mike hitting on Mary was one thing… but if Frank didn't stop checking her out pretty soon, John was going to punch him.

"I'm not about to give you a detailed history of the last seven months, if that's what you're after," he said. Mary curled her fingers round his wrist, applied gentle pressure. It was the only reason he wasn't yelling yet.

"We're your friends," Jake argued.

"Katie's my sister, I haven't spoken to her either," John told him.

"That's different!"

"How, exactly?"

Jake floundered. Frank rolled his eyes. Deacon, who knew John better than any of them, laughed.

"Tell you what," he said. "Why don't you guys start a fight while Mary and I go drum up some coffee?"

"This one, I like," Mary said. "The others, you can't keep."

John grinned. "Oh, come on. They don't eat much."

"They don't think much, either."

"Touché. You need cash?"

"No. Deacon's buying."

Their benefactor sputtered. John burst out laughing.

"So how long have you known John?" Deacon asked Mary as they crossed the road to the diner opposite the bar.

"Seven months. You?"

"Seven years. Or so. We went to high school together, him, me… and Alex."

"John told me about him. I'm sorry."

Amazingly, she was.

"Thank you. Erm… did he… did he say…" Deacon hesitated. He'd never told anyone about John's drunken confession to him that he'd been too late to save Alex because he'd been throwing a guy into a river without even touching him.

"Yes," Mary said calmly.

"Thought so. I couldn't think of anything else that would rattle him so badly he'd take off the way he did."

"It wasn't entirely intentional," Mary said wryly. "I'm surprised you believed him, actually."

Deacon shrugged. "My grandmother had… a sort of sixth sense about stuff. She saw things before they happened, sometimes, knew when something was wrong with my brother and me. Let's just say I don't disbelieve him."

"Works for me. Six black coffees, please."

Deacon waited till the girl had left again before asking, "Has he… has he been OK?"

Mary looked at him, straight on, hazel-green eyes appraising. Deacon felt a bit awkward under that intense unwavering gaze, but whatever she saw in him, she seemed to like it.

"No, he hasn't. Neither have I. But we're getting over it."

Deacon smiled. "So you are his… something?"

She laughed. "Yes. Yes, I guess I am. It's a new one for me, but yes."

"Good awkwardness, though," was all Deacon said.

When Mary Roberts smiled, he found he was in danger of falling out of love with his fiancé for good.

"Yes," she said softly. "A very good awkwardness."

And just like that, he was back on solid ground. Smiles like that lost their appeal when you knew they were for another man.

John was so screwed.

"So why are you guys in town?" he asked as they collected the coffees and left the diner. Mary shrugged.

"We're just passing through. On our to… well, nowhere, really."

"You're saying he ditched me just to go road tripping with you?" Deacon demanded.

"Can you blame me?" John said as they re-entered the parking lot. "Besides, she's got a kick-ass car."

"I always knew it wasn't me you wanted," Mary sighed.

"I can't have both?"

"That's just greedy."

"Your point being?"

"What model is it?" Deacon cut in hastily before they completely forgot about him.

"67 Chevy Impala," Mary smirked.

Deacon gaped at her. "No… way," he breathed reverently.

"Mike's woken up," Frank said, joining them. "Jake's gone for a bucket of water. What's Dec drooling over?"

"My car," Mary said smugly.

"Huh," Frank said. "Never had you down for a Mini Cooper person, Dec." He wasn't entirely sure why he said it – the beer he'd drunk, perhaps, or the fact that one of his closest friends had just appeared out of nowhere after months of silence and was acting like a complete stranger because of some _girl _– but as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted it. John didn't even say anything. The look on his face was enough.

"Tell you what," Deacon cut in hastily. "Why don't we all go our separate ways to sober up, and then meet back here tomorrow for a drink?"

Frank nodded slowly, still watching his old friend. When John stayed silent, he said, "Sure. Sounds good. I'll get Jake, let him know." He slipped away with a brief nod to John and Mary.

John rubbed a hand over his mouth. "We're not going to be here tomorrow," he said. Deacon smiled faintly.

"Didn't think so."

"Manning, Colorado," John said. "Ask for Daniel Elkins' place. If we're not there, he can reach us."

"I'll expect explanations when I come," Deacon warned.

"More than you can handle," John promised as they embraced.

"See you, Deacon," Mary smiled at him again. He hugged her. "Good luck with Win," he said. "Don't think you'll need it, though."

She laughed.

John couldn't hide his relief when the motel room door finally clicked shut between them and the world. The last months he'd spent with Mary felt like an eternity, a huge chasm that separated him from the boy who had been friends with those loud, cheerful, careless guys slowly rebuilding their lives after the war that had brought them all together.

Sometimes he found it hard to believe that boy had ever existed.

Mary was leaning against the partition between bedroom and kitchen, watching him silently. She wore the same look she had when they'd met in Cold Oak: a mix of pity and sorrow and regret. _I'm sorry you can't go back to that,_ that look said.

The faintest glint of fear in her eyes that he would try just the same. She would never admit to it, never acknowledge it, but it was there. Always. Only when they made love was it forgotten, driven away by all-consuming kisses, the brush of hands over warm soft skin, their bodies intertwined in the ecstatic perfection of _them_.

Much in the same way that his nightmares would never entirely go away, or his desperate need to be in control of what was happening around him. He'd left Vietnam determined never to be that helpless again.

To say the two of them were damaged was an understatement, he sometimes thought. But they'd get through it.

"I'm sorry he insulted the car," he said.

She smiled. "Make it up to me?"

John crossed the room in two quick strides, and Mary sank into his embrace with a soft whispered sigh.


	4. all your dreams are still as new

**All your dreams are still as new**

The first time John told Mary he loved her, she laughed. Tossed her long curls at him and slipped out of the door of the motel room, leaving the echo of her laugh hanging in the air behind her.

He was stunned, and a bit hurt. What sort of girl laughs when the guy she's been… seeing… for _months_ tells her he loves her?

True, the first time they'd had sex, two days after escaping Cold Oak, had been more a desperate comfort, an affirmation of life, rather than the beginning of a love affair. Neither of them had really expected it to happen again. And yet, somehow, a real relationship had grown out of it over the last few months at Dan's place. So…

"You heard me earlier, right?" he said over breakfast, an hour or so later.

"About calling Dan before we go check out those killings?" she asked, looking deep into her coffee cup as if all the mysteries of the universe were contained therein.

"No, you silly goose. The part where I said I loved you."

"Oh, that."

"Oh, that?"

"Johnny, I-"

"Would you like more coffee?" the waitress interrupted, and that was that.

He tried again, a week later, when they were in bed, so tightly curled round each other he was having a hard time telling where he left off and she started.

"Mary, I love you."

She twisted against him, raising her head up off his chest and giving him a smile and a kiss, which quickly turned passionate, and it wasn't till the next morning he realised she hadn't actually answered him.

It was as if she couldn't even hear it. As if the words meant nothing to her.

When he woke up in the hospital after the poltergeist hunt had gone rather gorily wrong, she was sitting next to his bed, an arm in a sling, covered in scratches, and he realised he'd been right. Words didn't mean a thing to her. Never had, never would.

"You almost died," she sobbed out, fingers twisting into his. "Because of me, because I slipped up, you almost died."

"Good cause," he said hoarsely. "Did you think I was just going to lie there while it killed you?"

She leaned over him, so close their noses were almost touching, staring into his eyes. He blinked a couple times, and she smiled slowly, a smile filled with wonderment and understanding and the joy you feel when the sun comes out after the rain.

"You do love me," she said softly.

"I've been telling you that for weeks," John said, understandably a bit testy.

She shrugged, and her loose shirt slipped off one shoulder, revealing the straps of her black tank top. Almost in spite of himself, he reached up and pressed a kiss against that smooth rounded shoulder.

"People have been telling me things for years," she said softly. "Things like _don't worry_ and _it's OK_ and _Dad and I will be back any day now, Mary, we're almost done here_. Only any day later, Mom and Dad were both dead, and Uncle Ben wouldn't even tell me what had killed them."

John stilled. She'd never spoken of her parent's deaths, when she'd been fourteen, before. Then he relaxed, ever so slightly. "I don't make promises I can't keep," he told her. "And I'm not 'people' either."

She kissed him softly, ignoring the scandalised nurse who'd just walked in. "I love you too, Johnny."


End file.
